


The Stuff of Legends

by Thistlerose



Category: Adventures of Robin Hood (1938)
Genre: F/M, Middle Ages, POV Minor Character, Post-Canon, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bess pretends to be simple, but she's more than what she seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stuff of Legends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notannette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notannette/gifts).



Dame Elizabeth – Bess to a select few – stayed in Nottingham long enough to see her dear Lady Marian wed to the infamous rogue Robin Hood, now Baron of Locksley. The wedding, which took place in the Church of Saint Mary the Virgin, was a cozy affair. Friar Tuck officiated, and apart from him and Bess, the only other people present were Will Scarlet, Little John, and Much the Miller’s Son.

Bess held Much’s arm throughout the ceremony, and if, on occasion, she dabbed at her eyes or hid her face against his arm, what of it? Bess had been to many weddings – five times as a bride – but precious few had been love matches. This one, she thought, clearly was. Look at the way Robin gazed at her lady, his warm brown eyes alight with tenderness. Look at the way Lady Marian was smiling, her red lips curved in a perfect bow, her long dark lashes shadowing her apple-pink cheeks.

When it all became too much for Bess, Much never chided her. He only pulled her closer and bent his head so that he could whisper soothing words of nonsense into her ear. And when the ceremony was over, he kept close beside her as they exited the church and stood blinking in the bright winter sunlight.

The cobbled street was filled with people, nearly all of them poor Saxons who owed their freedom to Robin Hood and his men. They were already cheering loudly, but when Robin caught Marian by the waist, lifting her off her feet before drawing her into his arms for a deep, passionate kiss, the crescendo was so great that Bess could only think of her childhood in Ireland, and trips to the seashore, and the crash of waves upon the sand. It seemed to her then that Robin and Marian were a great deal like the sea. Few would remember the details of this glittering afternoon, anymore than Bess could now recall the exact color of the waves, or the tang of salt in her nostrils and throat. And yet there was no doubt in her mind that Robin and Marian were lodged firmly in the hearts of the people here, and would remain so after all had passed into distant memory. Not the details, but the _idea_. As permanent as the sea.

~*~

Bess spent the night with Much. It wasn’t exactly proper, and she wasn’t immune to scandal, but at her age, she didn’t really care. It was a bit awkward at first – he’d meant it when he said he’d never had a sweetheart – but she showed him what to do, and afterward, when she lay in his arms waiting for her breath to settle and the sweat upon her skin to dry, she felt deeply, deeply satisfied.

Closing her eyes, Bess thought that if she could have one wish, it would be for the continued health and happiness of her Lady Marian. But if she could have two wishes, she thought with a sigh, the other would be for this peaceful moment to last and last.

Unfortunately, she had matters to attend to.

“Now, don’t you be all sad and long-faced in the morning when you find me gone,” she said, giving Much’s thick-fingered hand a squeeze. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Aw, now, sweetheart.” Much’s voice was gently cajoling. “Do you have to go?”

“I’m needed in London,” Bess said simply.

“Can’t I come too?”

“Oh, that would be a fine sight!” Bess laughed. “Me arriving in London with my new lover. How tongues would wag!”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Now,” she said, “don’t you think Robin will need you? He’s a great man, to be sure, but there’s only one of him, and there’s so much to be done here in Nottingham. All the fine things Sir Guy took, just sitting there in coffers in his castle. Why, don’t you think Robin will need some help giving it back to the people it belongs to? And all those poor people turned out of their homes… Who’ll comfort them and help them?”

“Aw, I’m not clever enough—”

“What nonsense!” Bess clucked, giving his thigh a reproving – but gentle – slap. “Who tracked Dickon Malbete all by himself, and in the dead of night too? Who saved King Richard and my dear, sweet lady?”

“Well…”

“Well, nothing! You’ve a good heart and a good brain, and Robin needs you here in Nottingham.”

She could tell from his silence that he liked the idea, though he was still reluctant to let her go. So she turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek, and in the end she had her way. After five marriages, she knew how to handle a man.

Still, it took an effort to rise from his side early the next morning, and dress in the cold darkness. After drawing her travel cloak about her shoulders, she turned back for one last look. Much lay on his front, his face buried in his forearm, his hair a bird nest, with locks sticking up in all directions. He was snoring loudly, and he didn’t stir when she bent and kissed the skin between his shoulder blades very softly.

Then she was outside, and hurrying toward the stables. Before the stars had faded, she was on her horse and galloping full speed for London, the Great Tower, and Queen Eleanor.

~*~

Prince John got there first. The sight of him, kneeling beside his mother in Saint John’s Chapel surprised her, for she hadn’t thought he’d have the courage to show his face again in England so soon after his disgrace. She’d thought he’d be halfway to Paris and King Philip’s court by now. But there was no mistaking those dark red curls, or those guileful brown eyes. His palms were pressed together and his lips moved, but Bess very much doubted the sincerity of his prayers.

As if he sensed her appraising gaze, John lifted his head slightly, and for a moment their eyes met. His eyebrows rose, but he seemed more amused than surprised by the sight of her. She glared reprovingly and he smiled, then lowered his lashes, once more the picture of penitent devotion.

Bess sniffed and straightened her shoulders. Well, she told herself, it didn’t matter what scheme the prince was cooking up. He was powerless now. Sir Guy was dead, the Sheriff of Nottingham in prison and awaiting trial. Richard would never trust him again. Nor, thought Bess, her gaze moving to the elegant profile of the woman kneeling in prayer beside him, would his mother the queen.

Still, his smile twisted in her memory.

~*~

It was evening by the time Bess got to see the queen in her chambers. As she knelt upon the clean rushes, her skirts spread around her, her hands folded demurely in her lap, Bess took a moment to study the woman who had first offered her employment so many years ago.

Considering her favorite son’s triumphant homecoming, Queen Eleanor did not look as well as Bess would have expected. Oh, her cat-green eyes still glittered with their usual intelligence, but they were deeply lined at the corners, and her cheeks seemed pale and sunken. She looked like a woman in her seventies, one whose life had been marked again and again by tragedy and frustration.

“He’s leaving again,” the queen said, answering Bess’s unspoken question. “Not _right_ away, but he’s mounting a campaign for France, to take back the land Philip stole while he was a prisoner. And also to punish Philip for plotting with John – among other things.”

“But John is here,” said Bess.

“Yes,” the queen continued. “After Richard banished him from England, he came crawling to me, begging for forgiveness, insisting it had all been Philip’s fault, or Sir Guy of Gisbourne’s. Anyone he could think to blame, he did. I’m not sure which was more impressive, his list or the fact that he seemed to think I would believe him.” She sighed.

“My lady, if you don’t believe your son … why is he here?”

Eleanor laughed grimly. “Because if he’s here, he isn’t with Philip, and I can keep an eye on him. Much as you kept an eye on him in Nottingham. Bess, I owe you my gratitude. Had it not been for your letters, I would not have known about the treasure this Robin of Locksley was able to take from John. Nor would Richard have known to head to Nottingham first upon arriving in England, or to use such caution. You have been quite valuable to me, Bess.”

“Oh, Your Majesty. Why, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, or for King Richard, God bless him.” And she meant it with all her heart, even though she was keenly disappointed that Richard would be leaving England again so soon. She was very shrewd, though she pretended to be otherwise, and she was deeply grateful to Queen Eleanor, for noticing the good brain behind the foolish countenance, and for giving her something useful to do.

“I know, Bess. Though I think you deserve some sort of reward for your loyalty.”

“Oh,” Bess began, lowering her lashes humbly, “Your--”

“Hush,” said the queen. “I’ve read your letters. I noted how often you mentioned this miller’s son. If it is your desire, you shall return to him shortly.”

“It is, Your Majesty.”

“Good. Then it is done. Now. It’s a cold winter night, and I’m old and weary. I wish to hear stories you could not put in your letters. Tell me tales of this outlaw, this Robin Hood.”

~*~

It was late when she left the queen’s chamber, and her long ride from Nottingham had at last caught up with her. So she shrieked when Prince John slipped from the shadows and walked right up to her, his hands clasped behind his back, his mouth quirked in a supercilious smile. In the flickering torchlight, his hair was the color of blood.

While she struggled to catch her breath, John said pleasantly, “So it seems Robin Hood and his ragtag band were not my only enemies. I would never have suspected you.”

“Some spy I’d have been if I’d let you!” Bess managed. The squeak in her voice annoyed her. “You made an awful lot of enemies in your brother’s absence.”

“And off Richard goes again,” said John. “How like my brother. If it isn’t Saracens, it’s the French. Killing people is so much more fun than ruling a kingdom.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bess said primly. By now, her heart had stopped racing, though she could feel the blood surging her in her cheeks. She was grateful for the shadows; they hid the clenching and unclenching of her fists. Oh, how she wanted to fly at him and scratch that smug grin from his face. She contented herself with a disdainful sniff. “Don’t you try anything, now. We know what you’re capable of, and we’re all watching you.”

His smile didn’t falter. “Watch all you like.” And with that, he pivoted on his heel and disappeared down a shadow-steeped corridor.

Bess watched him go. Then she shook her head. The truth was, she’d meant it when she said she didn’t care about kings – generally speaking. She cared for Richard because he was Eleanor’s favorite son and she was the queen’s loyal servant. She did not care a whit for John. She loved Robin Hood and Lady Marian, and Much too, and she would fight with everything in her small arsenal to preserve their safety and happiness.

12/22/2011


End file.
